I sat back, dumbfounded, wiping my eyes. I was sorry I’d upset Alex so badly, but even worse was the part of me that was guiltily glad I’d asked him and that we’d talked. More awful still was the realization that instead of feeling sated, I was curious and hungry for more.
~
September 20
Dear Kitty,
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since I got that award. When I first realized I was sick, I thought fifteen or sixteen years wasn’t enough time to live—that I really hadn’t had much of a life, but you can live seventy or eighty years and still not have much of a life if you don’t take control of your time and spend it wisely. I’ve tried to make the most of the time I have left—not just let it be eaten away by dumb, unimportant things.
Kelly and I haven’t had any of our old talks in a long time. I wish I could see him again. I’ve got so many questions no one else can answer. I try to casually talk about his religion with the family, but no one’s interested in listening. Mom—she just gets upset and starts crying if I bring up “Kelly’s crazy religion.” Dad’s never happy to hear about it, either. Neither of them have been from the start, but now that I’m at the end of my road, they think my religious thoughts and questions are doing me more harm than good and that I shouldn’t be letting “things like that” get me all upset. They think my “seeing the light” is just an act of desperation because I’m dying. But it’s more than that. I’m seeing things differently than I ever did before—probably than I ever would have if this disease had never happened to me.
To me, living and dying without leaving anything behind—as if you never existed—is the worst thing that could happen. I don’t want to be forgotten. I hope that at least I’ll live forever in memory and that I’ve done enough good things that people who knew me will be glad they did.
I found a poem in one of my English textbooks. It’s by Walker Percy, and it’s called “The Second Coming.” It pretty much sums up what I’ve been thinking and feeling lately. Especially where the poem asks the question about whether people can miss their lives, in the same way a person can miss a plane. And then the lines,
And how is it that death, the nearness
of death, can restore a missed life?
Those two lines have echoed over and over in my head ever since I first read them.
I’m much better at expressing myself on paper than in spoken words, as you can probably tell by now, Kitty. The me I am in my head is a whole different person from the guy the world sees. I think being sick has helped me—the real me—show my face more often.
We watched the sunset from our bedroom window tonight until the first star came out. The one wish I have is that somehow you’ll save in your mind some little memory of me . . .
September 25
Dear Kitty,
I know I’m getting closer to the end of the line. Mom, Dad, Alex, and Sam won’t leave me alone anymore. One or two of them are always with me. You refuse to leave my side at all. Thank you for that, Kitty—you’ll never know how much that means to me.
I tried one more time to talk to Mom when she came into my room today. I was trying to help her understand how I feel about “Kelly’s religion,” if only to get her to calm down and relax about everything, but she just got even more upset. More stuff about how I’m sick and don’t need Kelly adding more stress in my life and that I shouldn’t be concentrating on anything but relaxing and getting some rest so I can feel better. I wish she would let herself see that Kelly’s faith has really helped me see and understand so much, but she’s got a major mind wall against the whole religion issue, and nothing I can say or do is going to bring it down. Maybe someday, something will help her and Dad to change their minds, but it’s not going to happen while I’m still on this planet. All I can do at this point is agree to disagree and make sure she knows I love her and always will, no matter what happens here or beyond this life.
I made Mom open her Christmas present from me today. She cried when she opened the locket. Sam put a recent, before-my-illness picture of me on one side of the heart. When I tried to joke and tell Mom I was giving her the locket so she wouldn’t forget me, she cried even more and said she didn’t need a locket, because she’d already locked me safe inside her heart forever. That really got me, Kitty, so we bawled and hugged and talked. Believe me, Kitty—the hardest part about dying is saying good-bye and letting go . . .
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Okay—I think I’m about done here. Take a look and tell me what you think.”
I turned around to survey myself in my bedroom’s full-length mirror—and couldn’t stop staring. The velvet dress Sam helped me pick out for the dance had looked amazing at the store, but now that it was pressed and I had it on with my new heels, along with the benefit of Sam’s expert makeup-applying skills, the whole look was incredible. Sam had even created a fancy hairstyle on me with a wavy ringlet framing each side of my face and an up-do of curls formed into what she called a “clytie knot,” wound Grecian-style with a thin, forest green ribbon to match my dress.
“I can’t believe it’s me! Thanks for making me look so gorgeous, Sam!” I reached out to give her a hug, but Sam dodged, laughing, and blew me an air kiss instead.
“Watch the hair and makeup, Kathy—besides, I’m not quite finished with you yet.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I don’t think there’s an inch left of me that hasn’t been curled, powdered, painted, or dressed up! What could possibly be missing?”
“Just this.” Sam had turned to her purse and now held up something that glistened as it dangled from her fingers. My eyes nearly popped out of my head, but even as I protested, Sam shushed me and firmly turned me around so she could secure the choker-style strand of pearls Stephen had given to her for their last anniversary.
“Sam! I can’t—really—”
“Yes, you can, and yes, you will.” While I stared at the glistening pearls around my neck, Sam dug into the bag she’d packed everything in for fancying me up tonight and pulled out an elegant short black evening coat that she draped around my shoulders.
“Sam!”
“Just stick your arms in the sleeves and see if it fits okay.”
It did fit. More than okay. “But really, Sam, it’s not that cold outside!”
“Maybe not right now, but it is December, even if there isn’t any snow yet. And it’ll be colder when the dance is over. Besides—it has pockets in case you want to take your lip gloss.”
I dug my hands into the coat’s soft, warm pockets—and gasped again.
Sam grinned and folded her arms. “Don’t say no. Smart girls carry some cash on a date, no matter who the date is.” Sam walked a circle around me, checking for any wayward bit of anything. “Now all you need is your corsage, and you’ll be all set!”
Sam and I both grinned at my reflection in the mirror, and after I laid the jacket on my bed, this time Sam couldn’t stop me from hugging her.
“You’ve got Jason’s boutonniere?” Sam reminded me.
I nodded. “Yeah—it’s in the fridge.”
My stomach tightened into a knot, and nerves and worry took over as horrible thoughts I’d been shoving down all day began to plague me. Now that I had nothing else to do but wait for Jason to arrive, the time had come to freak out over whether or not he really would show up—or if I’d get an apology call at the last second. It was horrible of me to have such little faith in him—I knew that—but I couldn’t help feeling wary, bracing myself for possible disappointment, even at this late hour—
“Kathy, your date’s here!”
Dad’s voice had my heart jumping and me racing for the door after snatching Sam’s evening jacket off my bed. Before I could set one high heel into the hallway, Sam rushed to block my way.
“Good grief! You don’t need to run—he’s not ringing a dinner bell! Besides—you’re in heels and a dress, not shorts and sneakers. Keep that in mind tonight and walk accordingly.”
I did my
best to sweep elegantly down the hall and into the living room for my grand entrance, expecting to see Jason nervously squirming in front of my parents, but what I did see brought me to a quick halt with my mouth hanging open.
Jason was standing, smiling, and talking to my parents. And looking incredibly, heart-stoppingly handsome. I definitely hadn’t expected Jason to go to the effort of renting a tuxedo, and yet there he was in black tie, his eyes sparkling as he looked me up and down. I felt so fish-out-of-water-y that I stuttered and mumbled like an idiot about needing to get his boutonniere, but Sam quickly volunteered to grab that out of the fridge for me. While I stood in the living room doorway gawking at Jason in his tux, Sam thrust the boutonniere in my hand and quickly whispered, “He knew to get a dance tuxedo and not one with tails—I’m impressed!” before shoving me forward with a huge smile while she introduced herself to Jason.
Jason carefully tied my corsage of three tiny red rosebuds surrounded by white lace and pearls to my wrist. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling while I awkwardly tried to pin on his boutonniere, but somehow even with Sam, Mom, and Dad gathered too closely around us, scrutinizing my progress, I successfully harpooned the red rose onto his tuxedo jacket.
“Okay, kids, let’s take a few pictures!” Dad grabbed his camera, and even though I begged him not to, he insisted on taking some shots of Jason and me outside. “Those dance pictures are always so posed and stiff. Don’t be afraid to look like you’re having some fun here!”
Jason laughed when I tried to thank him after Dad finally finished taking an entire roll of film. “No big deal, Kathy. I just hope one of these turns out okay.”
Once we were safely back inside, Dad took a few more pictures before Jason promised to bring me home safe at a decent hour. Even Mom smiled and waved good-bye and seemed to have warmed up to Jason a little. And then, I was in for another surprise. This time I couldn’t stop the shriek that burst out of my mouth. Parked in front of my house was a huge, shiny black limousine. Complete with a driver in a black uniform and hat.
Jason laughed. “Like it?”
“Like it?” I laughed. “I can’t believe you did this!”
Jason’s eyes wouldn’t stop sparkling at me the whole time we were in the limousine. “If I didn’t tell you already, Kathy, you look—wow. Beautiful.”
I laughed nervously while he squeezed my hand. “You look pretty amazing yourself. I can’t believe you rented a tuxedo! You didn’t have to do that, you know.”
“I wanted to. And seeing how incredible you look, I’m glad I did.”
We were both silent while Jason continued to just look at me with those beautiful dark blue eyes of his. I looked away and cleared my throat nervously and with my free hand smoothed my dress before turning back to him. “So—where are we going for dinner?”
“I made reservations at a French restaurant in the city.”
I giggled at Jason’s attempt to pronounce the name. “A French restaurant? Wow—I’m impressed.”
Jason smiled back. “You are, huh? Good.”
Jason’s pleased smile didn’t last once our plates of food were finally placed in front of us, even though he’d been careful not to order snails or cow brains. “Tell me this is just the first course!”
“First course? No, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure this is the main course.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “Main course?”
“Yeah. You know—our ‘entrees.’”
“You mean—this is it?”
“Unless you’re planning on dessert.” I picked up my fork and knife to start in on my own meal and smiled as I chewed and swallowed my first bite. Heavenly. But after his first bite, Jason only frowned. “What’s wrong now? Does it taste funny?”
Jason shook his head. “No—it’s not that—I’m just used to eating more food for dinner.”
“I don’t think the French are familiar with the term ‘super size,’” I laughed.
“Maybe someone ought to fill them in,” Jason grumbled. The food was excellent, though, which Jason couldn’t deny, even if he didn’t think the portions were massive enough.
“It’ll keep you from wanting to loosen your belt and take a nap. We’ll both be ready to dance once we get to the Grand America hotel.” It was unbelievable that a place as ritzy as the Grand America would condescend to allow a high school dance to invade it. I had to say “wow” when the limo pulled up to the hotel, and again once we stepped through the revolving doors into the hotel’s palatial lobby. And again when we arrived at the ballroom, complete with huge, sparkling chandeliers, a live band, and fancy tables for eating fancy treats.
Jason spotted the treat table area right away. “Do you want anything?”
“No, but I’m sure you do. Let’s go.” Jason took my hand and quickly maneuvered us around suits and fluffy skirts before releasing my hand to happily devour a cookie.
I laughed, watching him reach for another. “I guess I ought to grab us some punch—”
“Jason—is that you?”
Angela. I shouldn’t have been surprised. In fact, I should’ve been surprised if she wasn’t at the dance. And of course, she looked stunning. Angela wouldn’t know how to look anything but. She wore a huge, model-perfect smile on her face while she clung to the arm of a
tall, broad-shouldered senior—one I’d seen strutting down the halls in
a letterman’s jacket. Although she was clinging to him—whatever his name was—her eyes and smile were set squarely on Jason. My stomach turned into a tense ball of knots while I forced my mouth into a smile.
Jason swallowed a mouthful of cookie before speaking. “Hey, Rob—Angela.”
Rob grinned and pointed at Jason’s brace. “How’s the knee?”
“It’s getting there.”
Rob nodded. “Good to hear.” And then, Rob’s eyes moved to me. And stayed. “Hey—you’re the girl from the Shakespeare festival!”
“Yes, that would be me.” A senior athlete acknowledging my presence and speaking to me? I was truly amazed.
“Kathy—this is Rob. Rob—Kathy.” I felt Jason’s hand glide around my waist and pull me closer against his side. I glanced up at him, and although he smiled directly at Rob, the smile didn’t reach his eyes. I grinned as I felt his arm around me tighten. Sam had done a better makeover on me than I’d thought!
“Jas! What’s up?”
Jeff and his date, followed by Brad and his date, hurried over from across the ballroom and crowded around on the other side of Jason and me—and immediately ignored me to talk to Jason.
“Hi, girls!” Angela stepped in closer to speak to Brad and Jeff’s dates, practically squeezing me out of our wonderful little circle. But Rob was still looking at me and moving in closer by the second, even though Jason kept his arm firmly around my waist.
“You came with Jason?” Rob asked, leaning in even closer.
“Yes, I did.”
“Lucky him.” I knew I was blushing at Rob’s flirting grin and wink. Even better—now Brad and Jeff were looking at us. Their dates were watching, too, clearly not interested anymore in what Angela had to say.
“Hey, didn’t you play Juliet in the Shakespeare festival a few weeks ago?” Brad’s date was looking at me curiously.
“Yes, that was me.”
“You were in another one, too, weren’t you?” Jeff’s date was now speaking to me, too! Miracles truly never ceased.
“King Lear. I was Cordelia.”
“Oh yeah—in that fabulous white dress!” Jeff’s date was actually gushing. Her comment was quickly followed by, “I loved that dress!” from Brad’s date.
Both Brad and Jeff were as shocked as I was that their dates were speaking to me. Of their own free will and choice! At that point, I dared to throw a glance Angela’s way. The model-perfect smile she’d been wearing was gone. Her eyes narrowed slightly at me before she quickly pasted on her trademark fake smile and gave Rob’s arm a healthy tug before loudly announcing, “Hey—I just
love this song. Come on, Rob—let’s go dance, okay?” And with a purposeful glare at Brad and Jeff’s dates, she quickly steered Rob away from me. Brad and Jeff’s dates hurried to follow her, pushing Brad and Jeff in front of them towards the dance floor.
Jason leaned down and moved his lips near my ear. “I thought they’d never leave!”
I couldn’t help laughing. “That sounds like something I should be saying—not you!”
“Yeah, well, they were starting to get on my nerves,” Jason grumbled.
“But they’re your friends!”
Jason almost snorted. “Some friend! Moving in on you when he’s got his own date.”
“You mean Rob?”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Of course I mean Rob. Who else would I mean?”
I laughed again. “I’m sure he was just being nice.”
“Nice? Don’t even! Like you didn’t notice he was all over you!” I laughed again, which Jason didn’t like at all. “You didn’t have to look like you were enjoying talking to him so much.”
“I didn’t realize having a hot guy in a tux flirt with me was supposed to equal torture!”
“Well, it was torture for me!”
I grinned up at Jason’s unhappy face and bumped his hip with mine. “Good!”
Jason rolled his eyes and grinned back. “Come on—let’s go dance!”
Jason took my hand and led me out onto the dance floor before I could tease him more. The song was a slow one, and for that brief second when we turned to face each other, there was a moment of awkwardness. I actually felt shy—and self-conscious—about putting my arms around his neck. The first and last time I’d danced with Jason had been at the homecoming dance, which seemed like a million years ago. So much had changed since then. I never would’ve believed I’d ever dance with Jason again. Certainly not at a fancy dance as his date. For just that brief moment, I thought I saw some of the awkwardness I was feeling reflected in Jason’s eyes. The idea of his being nervous about anything to do with me was both strange and heartening. I smiled, he smiled back, and then Jason reached for my hand just as I held it out to him, and slid his other hand behind my waist as I placed my other hand on his shoulder.
The Secret Journal of Brett Colton Page 25